


The chronicles of Stiles Stilinski

by matt_flynnis



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Post Season 2, alpha!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matt_flynnis/pseuds/matt_flynnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles learns that he has magic and must use it to help stop a weapon of mass destruction getting in the wrong hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Since Scott had been bitten, Stiles had witnessed his fair share of graphic violence; from setting Derek’s psychotic uncle on fire, to watching a man get crushed to death at the hands of the kanima, so hauling Derek’s ass out of yet another fire fight was nothing new to him.

Derek was heavy as he leaned his weight on Stiles, struggling to walk without his support. He was a mess. He was bleeding from several bullet wounds to the chest and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was an alpha, he probably would have passed out ages ago from blood loss.

Stiles took a deep breath and heaved Derek’s limp form in the direction of his jeep, which was situated at the other end of the abandoned industrial park.

Behind them, the sounds of the continuing firefight rang out into the empty night. Cries and growls mixing with the sharp barking of gunfire echoed around the abandoned warehouses like ghostly resonations.

Stiles had no idea where the others were or whether any of them were ok, but he daren’t go back now, not with the hunters after blood and his lack of supernatural werewolf healing.

Hunters were dangerous at the best of times, god knows that he’d seen Chris Argent in action and would definitely think twice before actively pissing him off, but these hunters were different. Most hunters follow a strict code of honour; it’s what keeps them in check. _We hunt those that hunt us._ This basically means that if you’re not causing any trouble, the hunters _should_ leave you alone. But that doesn’t always work out like that; take Gerard and his one group war against Derek’s pack in retaliation for Peter killing Kate. A war which he inevitably lost, but was still a force to be reckoned with none the less.

A few weeks ago Derek had told the pack that he’d noticed a group of hunters entering town. This had made them all uneasy. The truce with the Argents was shaky at best, but they were the more reasonable hunters- They didn’t know whether this new group would be as understanding about the Beacon hills werewolf pack. Tensions had been high but for weeks there was no suspicious behaviour from them, until tonight of course. The pack were close and were anything but naive, they knew as soon as Derek had snuck out of the loft in the middle of the night that something was up.

It was a good thing that they had followed him and saved him from the ambush that the hunters had sprung or Stiles doubted that Derek would even be alive right now.

 They both turned a corner and with the Jeep in sight began limping towards it. Stiles wasn’t in great shape, battered and bruised from an encounter with a hunter while rescuing Derek. Stiles suddenly stopped, much to the displeasure of Derek who grumbled incoherently and tried to keep moving but Stiles held him back, shhting him into silence.

Stiles waited body, completely still, straining his annoyingly limited, human hearing for any kind of indication of the wrong feeling he had in his gut.  The night was still but with all the echoing gunshots and shouting, it was hard to pinpoint where any sound was coming from. He looked down at Derek, but he was too far gone to be of any use. He frowned in confusion and was just about to continue on when two boulder sized hunters came out from between two buildings to their left, heading towards the jeep. Their stride was purposeful and swift, along with their military haircuts and posture to match, they were a deadly force. Stiles slowly slinked back in the shadows with Derek. He must have sensed Stiles’s apprehension as he did not protest to their alternate course.

He looked around quickly and noticed a rusty door leading into one of the buildings. As quietly as he could, he dragged Derek towards it, using the shadows to his advantage and prayed that it wasn’t locked.  It wasn’t. Luckily, the uproar of the fight still happening covered the squeaking of the door as he pried it open. He placed Derek down amongst the maze of staked wooden crates and headed back to the entrance in a hope of locking the door behind him. He reached the door in time to see the hunters shoot his two side tires. _Great, there goes our escape plan,_ he thought, pushing the door closed and wincing at every creak it made.

He ran back to Derek, he had his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the crates. Derek’s breathing was rugged and shallow, each breath oscillating a steady stream of red blood from his wounds. The only mercy was that it _was_ red and not black which meant that none of the bullets contained wolfsbane. Stiles leaned over and started to examine the wounds through his top, some of the bullets hadn’t burrowed that deep so he could see the glint of silver in the dull light.  _Damn it_ , _why did it have to be silver?_ he thought bitterly.

Silver, contrary to most lore belief, didn’t actually kill werewolves, merely dampened their abilities; healing, strength, speed, making it easier for hunters to capture their intended target. So if the hunters were using silver, they didn’t want to kill Derek, they wanted to _capture_ him, which meant that Derek was now in more danger than ever as he had something the hunters wanted.

So now he was stuck with no way of escape and the hunters’ prize alpha bleeding out next to him. It was time to change the plan.

“Derek buddy, the hunters have killed the Jeep, which means you’re gonna have to tell me what you need to get you back on your feet.” he said, struggling to keep his voice under control.

“Take. Them. Out.” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“With what?” he looked around incredulously for some sort of tool then finally looked down, wide eyed at his hands. “You can’t be serious.”

Derek glared at him. 

“Oh, god, this is crazy!” he looked around hopelessly for a handy pair of tweezers, or _something_ , but there was nothing around but dusty crates and not a lot of time. “You’re going to owe me so bad after this.” he said as he started to slowly lift the remainder of Derek’s top. After he realised there was no way he was going to get Derek’s arms up so he could get it off he found that he would have to rip it off.

It’s not like Stiles hadn’t had any dreams about ripping clothes off of the beautiful man that was Derek Hale, he had, many, many, _many_ times. This instance however, was not how he ever imagined his first time ripping Derek’s top off.

“Dude, I know this is going to look dirty, but I swear it is innocent. I need to get you’re top off so I’m going to have to rip it…off you.” he rambled. He was rambling, he knew he was, but he couldn’t help it. His heart was beating like a jack rabbit at the thought of just _touching_ Derek. He knew that it was wrong to have such thoughts when Derek was practically dying in front of him. It was then that it dawned on him that Derek could hear his heart and could probably smell exactly what he was thinking right now.

He looked up at Derek and his judging eyebrows, giving him a look utter disbelief. A look that kind of said _Really Stiles, you’re thinking that right now?_

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to do it normally, because I really would, like _really_ would, any other circumstance I would be ripping this off, y’know, in a sexy fashion-“

“Just do it Stiles.” he snapped out, cutting him off.

“Right, yes, ok, sorry.”

He could feel the heat filling his cheeks. He reached forward and awkwardly began to rip the sleeves of the top. When he was finished, he slung the bloodied remains of the top to the side and started looking to the damage.

From what he could see, there were six bullet holes. He took a shaky breath and got to work on the shallowest injuries. He was taking it painstakingly slow, trying his hardest to stop the trembling of his hands as to save Derek as much pain as possible. But Derek grabbed his hand gruffly and pushed his fingers in deeper. Derek’s blood was hot against his hands. Stiles gripped around the bullet and pulled it out, dragging a sigh of relief from Derek. The tissue began to slowly knit itself back together without the presence of the silver. He got to work on the rest.

After what seemed like forever he managed to get four bullets out and Derek seemed to become more conscious with every one he took out, but he was still far from being in fighting shape.

“Derek, the rest are too deep for me to get with my fingers, I’m only pushing them deeper.”

“Then push them through.” he grunted, his eyes closed.

Stiles flailed at the notion of literally pushing a hole _through_ Derek and caught his hand on a broken crate, blood welled from the slash on his palm but it didn’t look like he had a splinter.

“Damn it.” He didn’t have time to clean it up so he wiped it on his top and gingerly started poking his fingers into Derek’s chest. He struggled to keep his hand still against the itching sensation of his blood trickling down his fingers.

One moment Stiles was trying his utmost to prevent himself from vomiting as his hand was _inside_ Derek.

The next moment he felt radiating warmth from inside Derek’s chest, it spread up Stiles’s arm and flooded through his body like wildfire. Derek gasped as his eyes flew open and pupils dilated. A blinding golden light started to emanate from where they were connected, its intensity illuminating the warehouse. Stiles fell back from its glare, breaking the connection between them, sending the room back to its dull darkness. Both of them were breathing heavily and staring at each other, neither knowing what to say about what had just happened.

Then it occurred to Stiles that he had just accidentally lit a neon sign to any hunter in the vicinity to their location. He surged forward to get to Derek but was suddenly grabbed by harsh hands and thrown backwards.

The hunter loomed over him as he advanced. Stiles rolled, using the momentum to his advantage and managed to scramble to his feet. The hunter stood mockingly, opening his arms wide, showing that Stiles couldn’t get past him. Over his shoulder he saw two other hunters beating Derek down, in his weakened state, Derek was defenceless.

“Derek!” he screamed, tearing to the side in hopes of dodging past the hunter to him. The hunter dashed to the side, blocking him off and laughing.

He began to slowly walk forward, body open wide, trying to block Stiles in. Stiles took up a fighting stance and turned his body to the side, fists up. The hunter sniggered derisively and continued his movement towards him. Stiles swung round and kicked at the hunters ribs, only for the hunter to catch it with ease and laugh even more. Obviously this hunter thought that he could take Stiles with ease, which meant that he didn’t expect Stiles to twist his body, using the hunter’s weight as a stepping point, and connect his other foot into his jaw. Hunters should really do their research, you don’t pick on a sheriffs son and expect him not to be able to defend himself.

The hunter fell to the side with a cry of shock and pain. Unfortunately, Stiles was as graceful as a new born giraffe and without the hunter for support, hit the ground hard.  He scrambled up quickly and headed towards Derek only to find a fist colliding with his face, momentum making him crash to the floor. He looked up at a bloodied Derek who was being roughly dragged away, a look of complete and utter defeat on his face.

He turned to see the hunter behind him. He smiled.

“Lights out kid.” he said before bringing the butt of his rifle down and turning the world black.

*

Stiles woke to Scott’s voice above him.

“Stiles…Stiles? Wake up buddy.” he said, gently slapping his face.

Stiles blinked slowly, bringing Scott’s face into focus. He had flecks of blood on his face and he had a nasty bruise slowly disappearing on his cheek.

He sat upright much too quickly and the world spun a little.

“Derek, h-he got taken.”

“I know; the hunters fled as soon as they grabbed him.” he said slumping his shoulders.

Stiles placed his hand to his temple and closed his eyes in the wake of his head that was throbbing with ecstatic enthusiasm.

“Come on buddy, we got to get you back before your dad gets back home.”

“What about Derek?”

“Erica, Isaac and Boyd are out looking and when you’re back home safe, I’ll join them.” he said placing a hand under Stiles’s arm to help him up.

Stiles didn’t protest as Scott helped him to his car and began to drive him home.

Scott was the first to break the silence as they drove.

“I’m sorry about your Jeep man. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

Stiles didn’t reply. He didn’t care about his Jeep; all he could think about was the deep and heavy guilt he felt at the pit of his stomach.

“It was my fault. My fault that Derek got captured.” he whispered, not bothering to raise his voice as he knew full well that Scott could hear him.

“Dude it wasn’t you’re fault, you did your best.”

“Scott, you don’t understand, there’s things I haven’t told you.”

Scott slowed down and pulled over on the layby. He cut the engine, throwing the car into darkness and turned to Stiles.

“Talk to me.” he said simply.

So Stiles took a deep breath and talked, trying to keep everything as concise as possible. He told him of the box that his mother had left in her will to be given to him on his fifteenth birthday, the box that only his father had known about. He told him how he couldn’t open the box for a whole year after her death because it was too painful, and about how he had only plucked up the courage to open it last week.

“There was a glowing gem in the box, I touched it and the light just flowed into me.”

“So… what does that mean?”

“She left a letter there too; apparently Deaton wasn’t wrong about me being a spark.”

Scott was quiet for a minute.

 “You can do magic?”

“Well, no, yeah, I guess, nothing ever happened though, well until tonight.”

“What happened?”

“I cut myself on a crate,” he said showing Scott the cut on his palm which was considerably smaller than it had been earlier, “and Derek was bleeding. I think I made a blood bond with him and it lit up the warehouse like a bloody Christmas tree.”

“Man you weren’t to know.”

“As soon as I found out about magic, I should have looked into it. Maybe then I would have learned control, known about blood magic, maybe even fought off those hunters. What good are powers that you can’t control-” he said bitterly.

“You couldn’t have stopped it; they would have got him one way or another.” Scott turned back to the front and started the engine. “Come on man, let’s get you back.”

Neither of them spoke during the journey. Scott pulled into Stiles’s driveway and cut the engine. Both of them got out and walked up towards the door.

Stiles caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye, a hooded figure that stood stark against the street light sending a long menacing shadow down the road. It let out a frustrated scream and began flying towards him.  Stiles flailed and grabbed Scott.

When he turned back around, it was gone.

“What?” Scott asked confused.

“You didn’t see that.”

“No.” he said impatiently

“You didn’t _hear_ that?” he asked earnestly.

“Dude, it’s been a long night and you hit your head pretty hard, what you need is sleep.”

“Yeah… I guess.” he said still looking vaguely out towards where he’d seen the figure.

He let Scott lead him into the house and up to his bedroom. Stiles went to the bathroom to get changed and when he returned Scott was sitting on the bed. He got up as he entered.

Stiles fell in bed and snuggled into the sheets. Scott sat down next to him and placed his hand on Stiles’s head. Black veins appeared on Scott’s arm as he started to drain the pain away. His headache dissipated a few seconds later.

“Thanks man.”

“You’re welcome, and don’t worry about Derek, we’ll find him. But that means you have to go to school to cover for the pack, say that we’ve all got the flu or something.”

“Will do.” he said sleepily.

Scott walked over to the door and turned off the lights.

“Night buddy,” Scott said before he left.

Stiles didn’t reply, he had already allowed sleep to overcome him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles writhed in his bed, his thoughts clouded with harrowing images of Derek; bloodied and beaten, calling his name. He was back in the warehouse, lying on the floor. He looked up. The hunters were dragging his limp body away. He screamed and wreathed against the weight that was pinning him down, tearing and clawing to try and stop them. A taunting voice began whispering in his ear.

“You’ll never see him again. He’s going to die and it’s all your fault. You _failed_ him.”

“No!” Stiles screamed.

He pushed and struggled and screamed.

 

He was suddenly back in his room, screaming himself awake. A figure was sat on his chest, a dark looming presence that constricted his breathing. It pressed a cold hand over his mouth, drowning his cries.

Its presence paralysed him in place.

He could feel the panic in his chest rising. His heart was pounding in his head, blocking everything out.  His vision began to grey at the edges as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. The figure leaned down close to his face and lifted the hand off his mouth. He just had to watch, terrified, as the figure neared, giving Stiles a view of its face under the hood.

It was still dark in his room, he gathered it was still early morning but he could still make out the large scars on its face. It seemed as though half of it had been clawed off by some creature and what was left of its face was tight and pasty white. It looked like it may have been human once.

When it was inches from Stiles face it spoke, its voice horse and rough.

“ _Save him.”_

In the midst of utter terror, he was suddenly extremely confused. His eyes began to roll back in his head and he was seconds away from passing out.

Then the weight just lifted off his chest and he could heave in lungfuls of precious air. He gasped and choked, pulling himself back from the brink. He blinked the grey from the edges of his vision and shook his head to bring his thoughts back into focus.

He was still at the mercy of this beast- only now he was completely aware and would be conscious for everything that it wanted to subject him to.

The figure watched him recover, its face concealed back under the shadow of the hood. He was just about to speak, to ask why the figure was doing this, to ask what it wanted. But when he opened his mouth to speak the figure suddenly clamped its hand back over his mouth and started to scream.

“ _Save him!_ ”

The icy influence evaporated and its hand began to glow with a purple/white essence. Liquid fire poured down into his mouth and flooded his mind with its intense blaze. His vision lit up in a painful bright white and his body started to convulse. He felt like he was burning from the inside out, like he was in two places at once. The pain was overwhelming.

The power died off and Stiles lay there, exhausted and powerless. The creature lifted its hand and stopped its assault on Stiles senses, and then it leaned back down into Stiles personal space and started to shriek.

Stiles screamed in terror.

 

He woke and sat up, screaming and writhing in his bed. It was light outside, his alarm clock buzzing loudly next to him. He sat, stunned and tried to control his breathing. His heart was still beating ten to the dozen.

_Had it all been a dream?_

He turned off the alarm and quickly looked himself over he could feel something different, a foreign power in his chest, ominous and cold.

He looked over to his desk where his desk chair was levitating around three feet off the floor, the seat revolving slowly. His brow furrowed at the sight and suddenly, without his subconscious levitating it, the chair crashed to the floor.

He’d never manifested his powers in such a way before- especially seeing as he was _levitating_ things in his _sleep._

He had to get a grip of these powers, they were beginning to cause more harm than good.

He got up and checked his phone. He had three messages from Scott giving him updates of the packs search- they hadn’t found any trace of Derek.

_These hunters were good._

He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Derek still not being found. He sighed heavily and went to the bathroom to have a shower and get ready for the school day.

When he got out of the shower he called Scott.

“Hey, what’s the news?” he said when Scott picked up on the first ring.

“It’s not good. The hunters have somehow hidden Derek’s scent and thrown so many false tracks it’s almost impossible to find out where they’ve gone.”

“Could you call Chris, see if he can give you any help?”

“That’s where we’re headed now; these hunters have broken the truce so I think he’ll be more than willing to help us out.” Scott was obviously in the car with Erica and Boyd who were having a heated argument over why the other hadn’t found Derek.

“I’ll join the search after school, but I’ll need my Jeep sorted to be more efficient, can you sort out? I want to get it sorted without Dad finding out.” he said quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll call it in on my way to Chris', hopefully should get it done by tonight, I know a guy. I’ll pick you guys up at the end of school.”

“Thanks man, see you later.”

He put the phone down and headed over to the wardrobe to pick something out for school. He ended up picking a plain pair of jeans and one of his many plaid shirts.

With the Jeep out of commission he had to take the bus.

Great. He thought as he walked out of the house, bag on shoulder and walked to the bus stop. 

The bus was overly crowded and noisy, a trait that Stiles would normally have been comfortable with, but after the strange events of the night before, he was very edgy and the trip only managed to infuriate him

He entered the school in a foul mood and wrenched open the locker door to get his books. 

Lydia appeared at his side a moment after.

“Well looks like you’re in a great mood today.” she chirped.

“Derek got kidnapped and it’s all down to my newfound, uncontrollable, magical powers.” he said coldly regarding her with a stone look.

“Huh, magic.” she mused

“That’s what you took out of that? The hunters have Derek and no one can find him.” Stiles said dumbfounded.

“Derek will be fine, they wouldn’t kill him. They captured him for a reason.”

“Oh, _Yeah_ its _fine_ , he’s just going to be tortured for the information that they want, which I’m assuming he won’t give up easily. Am I the only one that thinks that he’s been tortured enough for one lifetime?” he snapped.

“Woah. We’ll find him, as a pack.” she said holding her hands up.

Stiles leaned his forehead against the locker door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s been a rough night.” he sighed.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’ll see you at lunch, I’ve got to get to trig.” he said, shutting his locker and walking off to class.

Trigonometry was tedious and seemed to go on forever. He couldn’t concentrate on any of the exercises set. Nor could he stop thinking about what Derek was going through at the hands of the hunters. He tried his best at focusing but nothing was working. He met Lydia in the hallway at the end of the class and started walking to biology.

He was listening to her talk about the newfound voices in her head when he suddenly got a stabbing pain in his ribs. He stopped and placed a hand to his ribs, frowning.

Lydia turned back, her face reflecting his. He cried out as a second stabbing pain hit, worse than the first, making him double over. He was vaguely aware of Lydia’s presence beside him and her worried tones when he felt his head build with an intense burning, he felt like his head might explode. Searing pain enveloped his vision and the scene of a bustling school corridor was replaced by a scene of some sort of underground basement.

_The walls were slick with grime in the dull light and smelt strongly of damp wood and mold. The silver chains that held his arms in a crucifix position were as cold as the grey concrete floor underfoot._

_One of the hunters from last night was facing him, Mason- the leader of the group. In his hand was a silver knife, slick and dripping with dark red blood._

_“Just tell me where the Aurorus is and I’ll make you’re death painless- I’ll end this and make it quick” Mason said in a thick Russian accent._

_He remained silent._

_“Fine. I can carve you up all day.” he sneered and thrust the knife into his side once again._

_Stiles screamed in agony as he felt the knife embed itself between his ribs and slice through his insides._

 

“Stiles!” he heard Lydia shout.

Stiles opened his eyes. He was back in the school corridor, lying on the floor, clutching his side. A whole bunch of students had gathered in a circle around him. He peered up at them, confused, and then looked to Lydia.

She was crouched beside him with a worry stricken face.

“What happened?” he asked her, taking her hand as she helped him up.

“You bent over and started screaming, grabbing your side… It looked like you were being tortured.” she said.

What _had_ happened? It had felt like he _was_ being tortured. He had felt that knife go into his side like it was actually happening. He lifted up his top and examined his ribs. There was nothing. No blood, no cut, no pain.

Couch started pushing through the crowd.

“Stilinski, I might have known. Why is it always something with you?”

But Stiles didn’t answer, another wave of pain hit Stiles like a train. He fell to his knees as his vision blurred once more.

 

_The first punch was aimed at his jaw making his head rattle. The next blow was to his ribs, the distinct cracking reverberated in the air. The next blow was in his abdomen, making him spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. Another punch to the jaw and another to the temple and he saw stars. The hunter stopped his assault and turned to a metal trolley behind him, topped with an assortment of torture implements. He pulled out a machete and surged forward and slid it through his chest._

 

Stiles managed to scramble up on all fours before he threw up violently. The crowd around him swiftly retracted to a safe distance. He was trembling violently and found it hard to focus as his mind swam.

_What the hell was happening?_

Like before, the pain subsided as quickly as it had arrived. He shifted his jaw, which was functioning normally. There was no blood in his mouth and most importantly, no machete through his chest. The thought of the machete nearly had him vacating the contents of his stomach again.

Coach and Lydia were above him, lifting him up in his shocked daze and escorting him through the school halls and to the nurse’s office. It at this point that he body had decided to give up and shut down as he passed out.

 

 _“You’re a tough nut to crack, Alpha Hale. Your strength should be commended, most would have either talked or died by now. But as strong as you are Derek, I will break you. We have all the time in the world. No one will find you here. You think you’ve suffered Derek?” he leaned closer to his face, lowering his voice to a menacing whisper. “We haven’t even_ begun _.”_

 

Stiles gasped awake. Lydia was by his side. He was lying in the nurse unit on the bed.

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour.” she said looking worried.

He rubbed his head which as still a little light and fuzzy.

“I think something is wrong with me.” he huffed out a laugh.

“The nurse won’t do anything now until she’s sure you’re stable for half an hour so. I think you need to use that time to tell me everything that happened after last night.”

He sat up in the bed and started talking. He told her about the accidental light display he’d made in the warehouse that got them caught by the hunters. He said about the figure that he saw, how it poured some sort of energy into him and he woke up to a levitating desk chair. He explained in detail what he saw when he was “out of it.”

“I think that creature did something to me.”

“I think it’s time to call Scott because you might have just become the greatest asset to the search.” she said conclusively while whipping out her phone.


	3. Chapter 3

He was forced to stay in the nurses’ office till the end of the day. Conveniently, any attempts to contact his dad came to nothing as he was out of town on a case, which meant he would have some time to come up with a credible lie about what was going on. He, Lydia and Allison stood outside the school, waiting for Scott to pick them up. Stiles had had two more torturous visions before now, each one containing a new and more imaginative torture methods.

Scott pulled up and Stiles sat in the front while the girls bundled into the back.

“Stiles, Lydia gave me the low down. You think you can locate him?” Scott said, pulling out of the school and towards the preserve.

“Yeah. The visions are a lot clearer, and between torture episodes, Derek is noticing thing about his environment that could give us clues about where he is, we’re going to need a map of the preserve.” He said.

Scott reached into the glove compartment and pulled one out and passed it to him.

 “Ok, but we’ve scouted a lot of the surrounding area, what makes you think they would go somewhere so obvious?”

“I think they’ve been planning this since they first got here, they’ve set up some sort of fortress. Mason seems pretty confident that we can’t get to him.” he said.

They pulled down a road into the preserve and parked the car.

“I’ve told the others to meet us here, they should be up ahead.” Scott said shutting and locking the car.

They reached a small clearing where the pack and Chris were standing by Chris’ car.

They gathered round when they approached and stiles spread out the map on the car bonnet.

“Scott tells me that you think that Derek’s here.” Chris said.

“This is bull. We’re wasting time here when we could be looking to where Derek actually is. If he was here, we would have smelled him.” Boyd snarled.

“Not with the spell work they’ve got on the house you wouldn’t.” Stiles spat back.

“Boyd, calm down. We’re all worried. No need to take it out on Stiles.” Erica said.

Boyd deflated. “Sorry, where do we start?” he said.

“He’s by some running water.” he explained. “This means that he’s in one, of about, four places.” he said, circling four points on the map. “We split up into pairs and then contact each other if anyone finds anything.”

“Scott, you go with Stiles. Isaac with Alison. Erica with Lydia and I’ll go with Boyd.” Chris said. “They won’t think twice about gunning you down, and they probably have the location trapped so watch yourselves.”

“Ok let’s head out.” Stiles said.

 

They both walked through the preserve in silence, Scott scouting just ahead, his senses honed to any hunter that might be lurching in the trees. Stiles felt the air in front hum with power. He was just about to warn Scott when the air snapped and a blue force field manifested, blasting Scott back with such a force so that he landed in a crumpled heap next to him.

“Scott, you ok?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah I’m good.” He said jumping up to his feet. “Shut up.” he said as Stiles chuckled. Scott walked up back to the barrier and placed a hand to it, the air congealed into a blue light and spread out across the preserve. “Mountain ash.” he put his hand down and turned to face Stiles.

“I’ll break it.” he said, walking towards the ring and dusting a section away. Scott went to walk forward but the barrier reformed.

Stiles walked a few yards forwards and lifted his hand. He felt the barrier solidify around him; the ground was covered in a layer of mountain ash.

“Scott, it’s not just a ring… they’ve placed a solid mass of mountain ash in a circle around half a mile all around…there’s no circle line to break.” He said

“This has got to be the place… I’ll call the others.” Scott said taking out him phone. “Can you break it?”

Stiles stood forward so he was within the barrier and poured his energy into it. The force field congealed around him once more and he strained against the power of it.

 Before Stiles could react a build-up of pain overwhelmed his senses and forced him to his knees with a cry.

Scott shouted his name and started banging at the barrier but his efforts clouded out and were replaced by the now all too familiar basement.

 

_“Derek, much as I am enjoying our time together, my scouts have found certain teenage werewolves in the preserve. With a little persistence they will eventually get here which means that I’m going to have to speed things up a bit.”_

_He reached to the trolley, picked up a box and placed it in his lap._

_“I’m not going to tell you anything.” Derek spat._

_“But you will Derek.” he reached to the trolley again and picked up a syringe containing a black substance. “Blue Monkshood. An especially potent blend just for you.” he put the syringe down and tipped the contents of the box into his open palm. “You will speak… One way or another.” he said, then shoved the syringe into his neck._

 

Stiles gasped on the ground as he felt the burn from the wolfsbane subsiding from his face. Scott was still banging violently against the barrier, screaming his name. Stiles stood up slowly.

“Stiles, are you alright?” Scott yelled.

“Yeah…I’m good.” Stiles murmured.

“The others will be here in five minutes, don’t move.” he said.

“We don’t have time.” He lifted his hand once more and poured energy into the air, the barrier solidified against him.

“Stiles, don’t. We have no idea what this magic could do!” Scott pleaded.

“Derek doesn’t have time, they know we’re coming, they’re going to kill him!” Stiles lifted his other hand in the air and started to push at the barrier. It resisted and held firm. Stiles pushed harder, dipping into the well of purple and white energy that swarmed inside him. His hands started to glow bright white. He could hear Scott pleading and yelling in the back ground for him to stop. He pulled and pulled at his energy. The barrier still resisted. A voice in his head started whispering.

_You can’t do it._

_He felt himself starting to buckle, not able to contend with the magic._

_You’re weak._

_The barriers weight was too much. Stiles’s head felt like it would burst under the pressure._

_Derek is going to die._

_It’s all your fault._

_You were given power._

_But you couldn’t use it._

_Because you are too weak to save him._

_You’ve failed him._

 

Stiles roared in defiance and pushed back against the barrier. He let his rage build, fuelling the fire in his veins. He built it up until it was an inferno. He felt the barrier starting to unravel. He let out a carnal cry and pushed sending out a sudden concussion wave of energy, shattering the congealed field around him. The resulting surge blasted Scott ten feet away.

Stiles let his hands drop as he looked over through the forest. The hooded figure from his dreams was standing in between the trees, resolute and unmoving. He couldn’t see the figures eyes but he knew that it was staring right at him, and it was smiling.

“What. The hell. Was that?” Scott said to his right.

Stiles looked over to see him stumbling towards him, but didn’t reply; when he looked back towards the trees, the figure was gone.

“That’s some power you got there buddy.” Scott said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thought you were worried?” Stiles said, frowning.

“Like you said, we’ll sort that out later. Right now, we could use all the help we can get, plus the barriers down. It was pretty awesome dude; I’ve never seen anything like that before. ”

The others came through the trees a moment later.

“Right guys, we’re running out of time. There are hunters tracking us. They haven’t attacked yet because they don’t want to give away their position, but as soon as they realise we know where they are, it’s going to be open warfare.” Stiles said.

“We need a distraction.” Scott said.

“Allison and I could round up the hunters, we haven’t been formerly introduced, and I’ll call them up on the violation of the hunter’s code.” Chris supposed, cocking his gun.

“Boyd, Erica and I will flank you and Scott, ready to spring a more violent distraction when they realise what we’re up to.” Isaac said followed by nods of agreement from the other two.

“What can I do?” Lydia asked.

“Lyd, we need you back at the car. Get it ready to get Derek out of here ASAP. He’s badly beaten and will need to go straight to Deaton. Call him, tell him to prepare from blue monkshood poisoning.” Stiles said.

Erica wolfed out and growled dangerously.

“Everyone knows what to do? Remember what’s at stake and keep to the plan.” Stile said and the group disbanded.

Scott and Stiles walked forward in silence, they were now walking into the danger zone. They had no time for talking.


End file.
